Blank Over
by ThomE.Gemcity-06
Summary: Tag: "Pilot." Spoilers/Alternate - Tommy wakes up earlier when he and Oliver are kidnapped, and sees Oliver kill the Red Masks. Warnings: Violence, Dark!Oliver, Tommy!Whump.


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 **Disclaimer: I don't own Arrow.**

 **Tag: "Pilot."**

 **Summary:** Tommy wakes up earlier when he and Oliver are kidnapped, and sees Oliver kill the Red Masks.

 **Warnings: Violence, Dark!Oliver, Tommy!Whump,**

 **aRRoW**

* * *

 **Blank Over**

Even before he regained full consciousness, Oliver-playboy-billionaire-Queen was no longer in the driver's seat of his body. At the threat to himself (and Tommy), it was like a switch inside him had been flipped, and he was Oliver-the-killer-Queen from the Island.

To be honest, being back in Starling City, back in civilisation from the wilds, was exhausting. Of course, he was given some leeway, having just been released from the hospital. But it was like he was an lion suddenly taken from the savannah and was expected to perform in the circus without preparation.

It was times like this that he might have preferred to still be on the Island, because there, there wasn't anyone that he had to perform for. With Shado and Slade, he didn't have to pretend, he did what he had to survive. He took what they gave him, and he provided the rest himself.

There were three men, all wearing dark hoods and grinning Red Skull masks that covered their faces and muffled their voices. The first was the leader, he was the one that was asking him the questions. He had fully expected this might happen at some point, just not this soon (three days out of the gate). If he had somehow survived five-years, could the same be said for Robert Queen? Next, was the assistant. He stuck close to the leader, and was pretty friendly with that Taser of his. The last, was the guard. He carried an semi-automatic rifle, and stood about thirty-feet back from the rest of them, giving himself a wider view of them, the floor of what appeared to be an abandoned factory floor—and one eye on Tommy, still out on a wood pallet.

Well, he'd better take care of these guys before Tommy woke up and things got tricky.

He played along with his three captors long enough to get out of the handcuffs that kept him bound to the back of the chair. It was a rookie mistake on their part, hiding his hands from their view. But how were they to guess the man that he became after five-years of hell?

"Did Robert Queen survive the crash?" his questioner demanded again.

Oliver bit off his cry of pain as one of the Red Masks pressed a Taser to his chest.

"Yes." He gritted out.

The leader paused. "Have you spoken with him? What did he say?"

"He told me," Oliver looked up at the man with dark eyes. "That I'm going to kill you."

"Ha! Very funny. And how do you expect to do that with your hands cuffed to that chair?"

Oliver grinned. "Not anymore." And something that might have seemed charming before, suddenly seemed foreboding. Oliver revealed his hands.

It was as if everything froze for a moment as his captures felt their shock, and he took advantage of it. Oliver leveraged onto his feet, grabbed one of the chair arms, spun it around and up, grabbing it with the second hand, and bringing it down overhead on the leader, before he could pull his handgun, dropping him. He turned, jabbing the assistant in the gut with the remnants of the broken chair, before dropping it and grabbing the hand that held the Taser, turning it inward. The assistant seized, but the voltage, for such a brief amount of time, wasn't enough to kill him. Oliver dropped the Taser, grasped the back of the man's hooded head, and using the Skull mask as a map, forced the hard edge of his palm against his nose. Forcing broken shards of bone into his brain, killing him.

"What are you waiting for?" the leader screamed, getting to his feet. "Shoot him already."

Oliver turned and grabbed the leader, pulling the man in front of him and using him as a shield just in time as the guard open-fired. "Surrender now to your fate." Oliver told the last man, throwing the dead man aside as he prowled after the guard.

The guard cried in fear, and despite being armed and having the advantage of distance to take out the unarmed target, his fear and instinct for survival took over and he fled.

Now, Oliver was the lion hunting after the frightened gazelle, fleeing in fear, entirely forgetting about Tommy in the moment of adrenaline and anticipation of the kill.

 **aRRoW**

Even though Tommy wasn't fully conscious of it, he knew something was wrong. He tried to wake up, fought for it. But it was like quicksand, dragging him back to sleep. But this wasn't ordinary sleep, it was unconsciousness. This wasn't drunk, this was drugged. He'd been in the Glades... with Oliver... Oliver!

He forced his eyes open for a moment before they were dragged back down heavily. He took in a scene that he didn't understand. There was a man with his back to Tommy in his peripheral vision, he couldn't make out much more than that. And about thirty feet ahead of him, where two other hooded and masked men, standing in front of a chair. A chair that held Oliver—

He knew instinctively, that to move, to get noticed, would not be in his best interest. So, he laid, feigning unconsciousness as he worked to get his mind in gear, his body ready, to keep his eye open for longer than a moment.

He knew they were talking, but at this distance he couldn't make out what was being said. They were clearly there for Oliver, Tommy was either leverage to get Oliver to talk or a thing to be discarded later. Or maybe he was next—the Merlyns were just as rich as the Queens after all.

The next time he dragged his eyes open, the scene had drastically changed. And if he didn't understand before, he most certainly didn't now. Shouts and cries of pain, the crash of the chair breaking, the grunts of a fight and then death. It was the loud and deafening crack that jerked Tommy upright, at the same time feeling relieved that Oliver seemed unharmed, but his heart was in his throat as the blond man made for the fleeing shooter with an intent and didn't even notice Tommy.

Tommy stared after them for a moment as they disappeared up the wooden staircase and through the door.

He was seeing Oliver, but… But that couldn't _be_ Oliver. No. Not the Oliver that he knew. But who was this man that came back from the Island? No one could come back unscathed, unchanged, after playing Survivor in a deserted Island. But this? What could have happened on that Island to turn the Oliver Queen that he knew, into this man?

But it was more gunfire, that had Tommy on his feet and running up the stairs after the pair. His heart was pounding, heaving in his chest, it was hard to hear anything other than his heavy breathing and the rushing blood and adrenaline in his ears. He still felt fuzzy and unbalanced from the drugs, but he forced himself through the door onto the loose gravel, half-level roof.

He followed the sounds of a struggle. Stepping over old pipes and around large fan vents and old air conditioning units. He saw the discarded Red Skull mask by the low edge of the roof.

He stopped short as he did indeed find Oliver and the shooter struggling, with his friend at the clear advantage. Oliver had come back from the Island packed. Even before he got stranded, he would work out a couple times a week. Tommy would join him, but was never as committed. Now, five-years on that Island, it was no surprise that Oliver was ripped. The shooter was obviously not a fighter.

Oliver had him bent over backwards, hunched over top of him, his arms looped under the man's armpits, his knees lined at his spine, his hands—

"You don't have to kill me!" the shooter screamed, cried, sobbed. In fear for his life like his friends, with good reason. "You don't have to do this!"

"Your wrong." Oliver told him, no remorse in his voice. "No one can know my secret." And then he wrenched, his muscled straining. There was a loud cracking sound as he broke the man's neck, killing him.

"Oliver!" Tommy gasped in horror behind him before he could stop himself.

Oliver dropped the body carelessly to the gravel and spun around to face the outstanding threat, his body wired for action. Tommy look a step back, his hands up and eyes wide in horror.

"Oliver—" he gulped, scared shitless right now. Because the Oliver Queen looking at him right now, was not an Oliver Queen that recognized him. That saw Tommy Merlyn, his best-friend since they were little kids. Since before Thea was born. Knew him before his mother was killed in the Glades and his father disappeared for two years, and whose childhood was only tolerable because of Oliver himself and because of Robert.

The doctors had told him this might happen. That after five-years on a deserted Island, there was going to be some damage, some trauma. That Oliver had PTSD, like soldiers in war. That's what this had to be, that could be the only reason how he could act this way.

"It's Tommy, Oliver. We've been friends, brothers, since we were snot-nosed little kids who thought girls had cooties." Tommy said, his voice wavering as Oliver shifted minimally in the gravel. "Oliver!"

Oliver cocked his head to the side, and then his eyes fluttered, and the next time he blinked and looked at Tommy, his blue eyes were clear. "Tommy—" he looked at the dead man at his feet, and then how terrified Tommy looked.

"You killed him." Tommy whispered. "Just—like that. What the hell, Oliver? What happened to you on that Island? Who are you? _What_ are you?"

"Tommy, please. Just let me explain." Oliver took a desperate step towards his friend, reaching out.

Tommy flinched back from his hand. "No! Don't touch me."

Oliver dropped his hand, they clenched into fists at his sides. "They were torturing me, Tommy. They would have killed us."

Tommy shook his head. "You didn't have to kill them. The way you fought—you could have _subdued_ them, let the police arrest them. But the way that you went after them... I saw—you _enjoyed_ it. You _hunted_ that last guy down. He begged for his life and you _killed_ him."

Oliver inhaled deeply, his lips pursed together as his eyes tightened. His eyes flared with anger and frustration as Tommy just seemed to keep going. This was exactly why people couldn't know. They couldn't handle it. They wouldn't understand what the Island had helped him understand. That the reason why Robert died, why Oliver survived, was to pay for the former's sin to Starling City. To fix what was so obviously broken now.

Without even fully realizing it, perhaps, Oliver advanced on his friend.

"Oliver, stay back!" Tommy cried.

If a man with a gun didn't stand a chance against a flashing Oliver, then what odds did he have? His best chance was to run, or snap Oliver out of it. Tommy didn't think a good slap to the face was something that the man would take in stride.

He scrambled backwards blindly. He didn't care, as long as it was away from Oliver. But then he stepped on the Red Skull mask, and suddenly he wasn't standing anymore, suddenly… he was falling. His calves caught the short edge of the roof and he was falling. He yelled.

"Tommy!" Oliver's head cleared as gravel was kicked up and flung at his legs and Tommy was disappearing over the edge. "Tommy!" he lunged forward and grabbed. He had a brief hold on the dark-haired man's ankle, but then his shoe came off in his hand—and Tommy was gone. "Tommy…"

Oliver looked over after the sound of impact sounded. The roof was only half a story high, but the way Tommy impacted—all back of the shoulders and head…

Oliver came back onto the roof and was sick, puking on the kicked-up gravel. It'd been such a lung time sing he had a gag reflex. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and swallowed against the taste of stomach acid as he left the edge of the roof and found a cell phone in the shooter's pocket. He dialled 9-1-1 and leapt over the side of the roof. He athletically rolled into the impact, uninjured.

The same could not be said for Tommy Merlyn.

 **aRRoW**

Tommy was in a coma. Had been for that last two weeks. The doctor said that was normal, with the trauma done to his brain. His skull was fractured, and his brain had swelled. He had to of had surgery. A piece of his skull had to be removed to relieve the pressure. When the swelling went down, he had a metal plate out in his head afterward and a shaved head. He had fractures in his neck and some of the upper vertebrae. They put him in a metal brace that had to be _screwed_ in, in order to keep him immobile (despite the coma), to prevent paralysation.

Thea, Moira, and even Walter visited. Laurel and Det. Lance. Malcolm. Other people that Oliver had no idea who they were. Every night, when he wasn't making preparations, he was at the hospital.

Oliver's plans for crossing off the names on his father's list didn't halt because Tommy was in the hospital. They proceeded, and soon, he'd be crossing the first name off. He felt guilty, and at war at himself over what he had done to Tommy. But nothing, not even his best-friend from when he was another Oliver Queen, could interfere with the plans he had for Starling City. From his talks with Det. Lance over what happened with the kidnapping, he already laid the ground-work for what he was about to do. The Vigilante. The Hood, was born out of this.

He wasn't sure what kind of out-come he wanted from this. Of course, he wanted Tommy to wake up, to live. But what condition would the man be in? Would he remember? Would he have forgotten? Would there be brain damage like the doctor had warned?

After they two of them were kidnapped, Moira made him get a bodyguard. He was sure that Mr. Diggle was a good man, but with what Oliver was attempting, he couldn't have a shadow. And, finally, after managing (quite easily) to ditch the man on every occasion that he had Hood business, Diggle quit and Oliver was free to do as he pleased. It was a good bit of fun and turn of events.

It was a week later and the Hood was a true realisation to the City of Starling. Anyone on Robert's list was not safe. The Vigilante was out there. The Modern Day Robin Hood, he'd heard The Hood referred to several times on different occasions, but Oliver was of no illusion to what he was. He was a soldier making up for his father's mistakes.

Tommy's leg jerked, making Oliver leap to his feet and stand in a defensive stance, his eyes seeking out the threat before they settled on the man in the bed. Forcing himself to at least appear relaxed, he swallowed and slowly approached the side of the bed.

"Tommy?" he questioned, his voice nothing but a breathless whisper, like he wanted to leave the Merlyn undisturbed. He'd been both dreading and anticipating this moment.

He peered down at him friend, his face framed by the metal brace and his chin shadowed in a ever growing beard. His gaze was piercing as he searched for the micro-twitches that indicated wakefulness. And there they were. The corners of his lips down turned, minute twitches of his cheeks and flares of his nostrils, his furrowed brow half-obscured by the bandage, his eyelashes fluttering.

Tommy moaned lightly and his fists clenched a handful of the blanket at his sides, the heart monitor clip on his index finger going crooked at the reaction. His blue eyes were revealed, dull and unfocused. His eyelids dragged down and then upwards again—and then his eyes focused on Oliver.

The heartbeat on the heart monitor jumped a little as Tommy stared up at him, his blinks a slow pull, his eyes darting away and back to the blond. He parted his cracked lips and attempted to speak, but all that came out was a croak. It wasn't too long ago that they actually took out the tube that was helping him breath after he first came out of his surgery and it was concluded that he was in fact in a coma.

Oliver didn't immediately call on a nurse or doctor that Tommy was conscious. No, whatever the outcome of Tommy waking up, Oliver needed to deal with it immediately, and without witness. With some slight of hand, Oliver slipped the monitoring clip from Tommy's finger and the recording beeps of the heart monitor even out instantly as it slipped on his own.

"Hang on," he told Tommy. And he went back to the chair he'd been sitting in and grabbed his half-drunk bottle of water. He twisted off the cap and carefully tipped some water into Tommy's mouth. Tommy swallowed convulsively, with relief, a drip of water trailing from the corner of his mouth into his growing beard. He licked his cracked lips, his gaze never leaving Oliver. He looked more wakeful, aware, but still confused as he stared at Oliver.

"Am I dead?" Tommy finally rasped.

Oliver blinked at him in surprise. "What?"

"You're—You're here, Ollie. And you're dead. I thought you were alive. In China. I went to-to find you, but... it was just some bastard looking for a easy payday." Oliver grimaced lightly, that bastard had been him, and he'd done it to keep ARGUS from having Tommy killed. Where did _that_ Oliver go to? "I—I can't move. I think I'm dead. I can't remember but... I think I'm dead, Ollie."

"You're not dead." Oliver told him. "You were in a terrible accident."

"But you're dead."

"No." Right now, it appeared that Tommy didn't remember, but that could be because he just woke up from the coma. "I was trapped on a deserted island for the last five-years. It wasn't until, a little more than a month ago, that a fishing boat found me and I was brought back to Starling."

"Oh." Tommy looked even more dazed. "It must have been bad if I don't remember that my best-friend came back from the dead."

"Well, that'll make two of us then. Coming back from the dead." Oliver smiled tightly. "And it is pretty bad. You've been in a coma for three weeks, Tommy."

"What?!" he exclaimed, and everything else below his shoulders moved, and he flinched in pain. "What—What happened? Why can't I move?" he reached up with shaking hands and felt the metal frame around his head and shoulders. "What the fuck is this? Ollie?" his voice was high with fear.

"It's a brace, to keep you from moving. To prevent you from becoming paralyzed from the fractures in your neck and spine."

Tommy gave a quiet wail and paled visibly. "P-paralyzed?"

"You don't remember?" Oliver pressed.

Tommy tried to shake his head, and only grimaced in pain. He stilled, gulping, fear coming out in heavy, puffy breathes through his mouth and nose. His heart was beating erratically in his chest, yet the monitor produced an even and steady beep. He didn't notice the inconsistency.

Tommy someone managed to force himself into a physical being of calm, despite the inner turmoil and confusion he was feeling. There was just a huge gap in his brain. He'd didn't remember being in an accident. He didn't remember Oliver returning from the dead. He just didn't remember and it filled him with an undisclosed dread and fear.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Did... did my dad come? Did... Laurel?"

Oliver felt more relaxed than he had in the last few weeks since it happened. Tommy really didn't seem to remember. "Uh, yeah. Your dad visited a couple times. Laurel almost as much as me. Why?"

Tommy lips tightened as he looked at Oliver, and he hesitated.

"Tommy?"

"Um, Oliver, there something I think you should know…" Tommy started. Oliver was his best-friend, he deserved to know, especially after everything he'd been through.

"What is it?" his tone was suspicious.

"I'm sleeping with Laurel." Tommy blurted.

Oliver stilled. "What?"

"Laurel. We... a few times over the years." He babbled in a hurry to explain. "But this year... we've—we've been having a real go at it. Proper. She's giving me a chance. She's trusting me..." he fell quiet. "Oliver?"

Oliver's shoulders tightened and his hands clenched into shaking fists from view of Tommy's sight. He felt like there was ticking in him, timing him off, like an explosion of reaction and no thought. He had to fight to hold it back.

Tommy whispered falteringly, "I know things between you and Laurel are complicated—What with, you know, and then being dead for the last five-years. I— We—"

After several controlling, deep breaths, Oliver managed to get the Island under control. "You're my best-friend, Tommy." Oliver told him evenly, calmly. "I know you would never do anything to hurt me—just like I would never do anything to hurt you."

As long as Tommy didn't remember, it would be fine. In the meantime, he had his Hood business and he'd work on Laurel all the while. Actually, unbeknownst, while in the coma, Tommy had been helping him in gaining Laurel's forgiveness for Sara. Now that Tommy was awake, Laurel would feel sympathetic and stay with him because she'd think it was the right thing to do, but Oliver knew it was only a matter of time before he had the lawyer back.

Tommy was swallowed with relief. "So..." the corner of his mouth twitched upwards, trying to lighten the tension, oblivious to the cold-hard truth. "Five-years, huh? That must be one hell of a tan!"

He chuckled and gave an Oliver Queen smile. "You have no idea, buddy. Why don't I go and get you a hot nurse, huh? It doesn't hurt to look."

"Don't let Laurel hear you say that!" Tommy chuckled good-naturedly.

"Oh, don't worry." His back was to the injured man as he made for the door. "What are best friends for?" his dark expression did not convey what his friendly tone did.

Any concerns, worries, or nagging feelings that Tommy's subconscious might have harboured, faded away as he slipped back to sleep before Oliver's return. Whether he would realize it or not, there was a blank space in his head that just saved his life.

[end]

* * *

 **aRRoW**

 _So, honestly… Oliver turned out a little more calculating and darker than I originally intended:_

 _I knew that I wanted Tommy to wake up and see Oliver kill the three Red Skulls, but I was on the fence of how intentional it was for Oliver to cause his fall off the roof. I always intended for Tommy to live and perhaps have amnesia on the event, but was a little concerned about Oliver's reaction to him all-but forcing Tommy off the roof and him remembering (since Tommy's reaction had been bad). So, somewhere along there, I just decided to throw caution to the wind and make Oliver with a darker intent for his mission to save the City_ _—and decided to throw those bits with Diggle and Laurel in there to get the point across._

 _Don't be afraid to tell me what you think!_

y


End file.
